


this slope is treacherous (i, i, i like it)

by LizMikaelson, saltziepark



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, and jealous at that, hope is a dumbass, just soft idiots being soft for each other, lizzie is going to kill mg, or maybe not actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22544095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizMikaelson/pseuds/LizMikaelson, https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltziepark/pseuds/saltziepark
Summary: lizzie gets rope burn. and finds out that hope might care more than she anticipated.
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson & Lizzie Saltzman, Hope Mikaelson/Lizzie Saltzman
Comments: 36
Kudos: 354





	this slope is treacherous (i, i, i like it)

In hindsight, maybe asking MG to belay her on the school’s newest climbing route was misguided. He is a freaking vampire, after all. Speedy movements and all, but he must have gotten distracted by something that some girl had been doing on a yoga mat, because one moment, she was adjusting her grip to reach up to grab a hold by her head and the next she is falling off of the wall, swinging wildly. 

MG lets her down quickly after that, making sure that she was firmly on the ground before helping her untie the rope from her harness. His apologies wash over her - he had lost grip on the rope, it would never happen again. 

“It’s fine, MG, really,” Lizzie says, her voice shaking a bit from the shock that she tried to smile through. Maybe her pushing Alaric to install the additional routes in the gym for students had been a bit hasty. 

But something about being able to meditate on the wall - breathe and block out everything (including a certain brunette tribrid who had a way of creeping into her thoughts these days like a parasite) and focus on where her feet needed to be placed, where her hands needed to go - it was freeing. It made the noise, the chaos around them, just a bit quieter. Like all of the bad thoughts about her mental stability were turned down on low volume. It was cathartic. 

What wasn’t cathartic and was totally harshing her chill is the ache radiating from her neck, like a thousand hot needles dancing on her skin. 

It burns and as she reaches up, she can feel the heat and the sting from where the rope had rubbed across her skin. MG winces as she touches it and Lizzie’s eyes widened.

“Is it bad?  _ Please _ tell me it isn’t bad,” Lizzie loosens her harness and pulls off her climbing shoes, clad only in a tank top and leggings before touching the sensitive skin, right above her pulse point as she jogs over to the mirrors by the exercise area. The mark was red and splotchy and looked remarkably like - 

“A hickey. I have a rope hickey on my neck. Great,” Lizzie inhales sharply as she touches the mark again. MG is behind her in a flash, his expression bordering on a smirk. 

“Your dad is gonna love that,” he grins. Lizzie turns around and shoves MG in the arm before fleeing to the showers with yet another assurance that she was fine and a goodbye to the vampire. She only has twenty minutes before her first class of the morning and her dad had been keeping an eye on her far too closely lately. Not that she hadn’t been the one to remember Hope first or anything. 

She rushes to class as soon as she’s showered and changed out of the workout clothes back into her uniform, the errant mark on her neck almost forgotten. 

It’s only about halfway through chemistry of magic that she notices eyes on her, an almost searing gaze.

Hope is staring at her from the other end of the room, her (pretty, pretty) blue eyes fastened on Lizzie’s neck, her face a mix of anger and annoyance.

She’s probably mad but she’s the single one now that Landon has taken off on yet another voyage to discover his heritage. Not that Lizzie is getting any. Sebastian is gone, good riddance. She never wanted to be that version of herself again, anyway. She never wanted to be so easy to control and manipulate. She is stronger than that. She deserves better than that. 

Hope still hasn’t looked away and Lizzie would almost think her jealous, but the tribrid has always made it clear which of the twins she prefers. Lizzie’s gaze falls on Josie, at the front of the class and nearly bursting with her desire to answer the teacher’s question. As Lizzie turns back to her notes, she still feels Hope’s gaze and it burns nearly as hot as the mark on her neck. 

Lizzie wants to say something, anything, but she can’t. She looks down and the feeling fades as they’re told to turn to their textbooks and read the next chapter. She is greeted with silence once more. Until it breaks and class ends and the feeling of Hope’s eyes on her begins once more. 

Her body is screaming to get out. To leave. To avoid Hope’s burning gaze like a supernova that strikes her heart and makes her stomach drop in ways that were torturous and so delightful. 

To get away from the way Hope makes her feel. 

She drops her notes and book in her haste to get up quickly, papers flying everywhere. 

“Shoot,” she whispers, dropping out of her seat to gather up the pile with all of her notes scattered around her. She was going to have to organize everything, fast, she thinks, just as her hand finds something soft and warm. Not a piece of paper. Definitely Hope’s hand. Definitely her very soft hand with maroon fingernail polish. A jolt of electricity flashes through Lizzie’s body at the touch and she nearly jumps out of her skin.

Looking up from the pile, Lizzie sees Hope crouched next to her, gathering the paper and a few books into her own pile before wordlessly handing them to Lizzie. 

“What,” Lizzie asks, as Hope unabashedly stares at her, mouth open. Hope’s eyes hover between Lizze’s neck and her incorrectly unbuttoned top, which Lizzie only now realizes revealed far too much of the red lace bra she had thrown on after her shower. 

“Like what you see, Mikaelson?”

The growl is unexpected as they get to their feet and a pile of neatly arranged books and notes are shoved into her hands. The classroom is empty now, the remaining students having rushed out to their next class. 

Lizzie places the books on the desk next to her as she correctly buttons her shirt, Hope’s eyes following the buttons downward. Her eyes flash back up to Lizzie’s and there’s that look again. 

“You should really learn a concealment charm, Lizzie.”

She could totally explain the rope burn. She could. Or- she could not. 

Instead, she crosses her arms across her chest. “What business is it of yours, Hope?”

Hope says nothing, but she clenches her jaw and runs a hand through her auburn hair with a shaky breath. “I’m just concerned,” she bites out, “you don’t always have the best taste in people.”

It’s a low blow, and Lizzie’s response is fuelled by rage. “If you care so much about who puts hickies on me, Hope, do it yourself.” She’s overplayed her hand, revealed too much, shown off far, far too well just how much she feels, because Hope is not interested. 

But Hope’s eyes flash gold, and she steps closer. 

Hope kisses her and Lizzie can taste the stars, nebulae flowing into her veins like an avalanche of gold and silver in her blood. Her legs feel weak and her heart is pounding in her ears but all she can feel are soft lips and warm hands caressing the sides of her face as Hope surges forward and pulls Lizzie to her. They break apart for air and Hope’s lips move from Lizzie’s to her cheek, down her jawline, finding the spot on her neck that moments before had burned but now feels cool as the tribrid whispers a charm across the skin, her lips following the words like mist over the land. 

Lizzie feels her head tip backward, her hands clutching at Hope’s hips as the brunette continues to dot kisses along Lizzie’s neck, sucking on her pulse point. 

Clearing her throat and touching Lizzie’s lower lip with the pad of her thumb gently, Hope’s eyes travel downward once more to check her handiwork and make sure her spell was holding. 

“I should thank M.G.,” Lizzie smirks, and reaches for Hope’s wrist when her eyes shimmer golden again. “He dropped me when I was climbing.”

“He dropped you?” Hope questions. 

Lizzie nods, and her smile grows. “We were climbing in the gym and some girl was doing yoga and his hand slipped, resulting in this lovely rope burn on my neck,” she tilts her head, “and quite the unexpected reaction on your part.” 

Hopes face flashes scarlet and she tries to pull away but Lizzie still holds her wrist in her hand as a derisive laugh escapes her lips. 

“So you….” Hope begins. 

“No,” Lizzie finishes plainly, eyes dancing across Hope’s face to read more into whatever  _ that _ was a few moments before. 

“Good,” Hope states firmly with a nod. 

“Never took you for the possessive type,” Lizzie teases, hoping to dive deeper into Hope’s intent as the tribrid seemed eager to keep her motives and feelings under wraps. 

Hope hums, twisting her hand to intertwine their fingers. “I don’t like the idea of you kissing other people.”

“You don’t say, Mikaelson,” Lizzie grins, her good mood still far too obvious. 

“You can stop now, Saltzman,” Hope grins. 

“Never,” Lizzie objects. 

Hope tugs on her hand, gently. “We have class. Will you stop if I take you on a proper date on Friday?”

“I’ll consider it,” Lizzie says, and Hope’s laughter rings through the halls of the school. 

**Author's Note:**

> tell us what you thought, pretty please with a cherry on top


End file.
